Static
by ocha-no-deathscythe
Summary: Blood dripped from her chin and fingers. Her breath came in short pants as she stood above the dying creature. She let out a hoarse war cry and the scythe in her hands chuckled. "Welcome...to Night Vale." WTNV AU. SoMa.


Author Notes: Let me just say this right now: You cannot expect this fic to update regularly. I am working on so much stuff right now it's ridiculous and with Resonance Bang and NaNoWriMo coming around the corner, this will probably be the lowest priority on my totem pole.

That being said, I really like this idea and it's a lot of fun to write. So I'm posting this with the intention of working on it over time, but it probably won't be a regular occurrence. It will probably increase in priority after I finish Affinity and I Sing the Body Electric.

Also, this fic doesn't have a beta, so if anyone wants to take it under their wing, I'd love them forever and a day.

As always, I don't own anything.

* * *

Maka Albarn was a radio intern. And, despite popular opinion, it was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. It had little to do with the radio part…and the intern aspect wasn't really any more dangerous than most internships; it had everything to do with the place in which she worked.

Night Vale was the most scientifically interesting town in the United States. It was also the most dangerous. Some said that it laid on a rend in space-time; others reckoned that there was a secret cartel of witches in the town whose black magic created the demons of madness that tore apart the city.

The Sheriff's Secret Police's official statement on the matter was that Night Vale was a quaint, family-friendly town with lovely panoramic views of scrublands and sand wastes. Unfortunately there were no mountain vistas, but that was because mountains did not exist.

When Maka—twenty-two, radio journalism major, orphan for the past three years—began to look for internships, she was drawn to Night Vale Community Radio, despite its decades-old equipment and reputation for losing interns faster than Donald Trump. Partially because it was the only radio station taking interns in the local area (Night Vale Community Radio was always taking interns) but also because it, unlike mmost internships, paid reasonably well. It was also an anachronistic remnant of a previous age, being the town's primary form of news. Lacking both a television news station and a regular local newspaper, Night Vale put all its news-reporting faith in an old radio station across from the car lot.

As a child, she'd heard stories about Night Vale—terrible ghost stories, vividly painted with the lurid gore of children trying too hard to scare each other. Maka, a very serious child, never believed them…but she hunted down the tales, regardless, pulling out old books of urban legends and horror stories from dusty corners of libraries.

There were never records of Night Vale that described it as a real town. It seemed, to her, that the entire world was content to pretend that Night Vale was just some sort of horrible fairy tale. Even her mother, whom Maka knew had lived in Night Vale for some time, never spoke of the place.

NVCR were very pleased when she submitted her request for an internship. Maka had expected it—after all, she'd been at the top of her class. But her acceptance letter had said, "Always glad to have an Albarn!"Maka had wondered at the strangeness of the statement, but had written it off as merely idiosyncratic writing.

She hadn't expected for the entire town to be enthused about her arrival.

* * *

She was greeted by a fearsome creature, all jagged teeth and blood-colored eyes. White, shaggy hair hung low on his forehead, shadowing the harsh planes of his face in an almost sinister fashion. His voice was deep enough to be a growl.

"So you're the new intern, eh?" He scratched at his face with a long finger. "Maka…Albarn, was it?"

She gave him a curt nod.

He had the gall to sound irritated. "Good to finally meet you. Management won't shut the fuck up about you. I've started shaving without a mirror just to get some peace."

The man ignored her quizzical look, ushering her into the building with a suspicious look aimed at the sky. He made vague gestures towards a battered coat hanger at the door, saying nothing as he bolted the door shut.

Maka cleared her throat irritably. The white-haired man half turned, arching an eyebrow at the noise.

"Can you tell me who you are?" she asked, hanging her coat at the far end of the rack, next to a well-kept, black leather riding jacket. The man smiled crookedly.

"I'm Intern Evans, but you can call me Soul Eater."

She refrained from telling him that it was the most ridiculous suggestion she'd ever heard in her life. Instead she tapped her foot imperiously and asked, "So, _Intern Evans,_ I assume that you're not the one in charge here? Can you take me to Management?"

Evans laughed nasally. "Fuck no. Nobody's seen 'em ever come out of the office. If you want to talk with the higher ups, you can just go the bathroom or use a compact or something." He jerked his head towards the stairs. "I'm just supposed to show you the building and take you to the Kid."

"Who's the Kid? And what's this about the bathroom? Really, this place—"

"—makes no sense, I know," he interjected, tugging at one of her arms. "Night Vale's kinda like that. C'mon. We'll take you upstairs and some things will make more sense. Some things will take a lot longer to get used to."

Maka followed Evans, bewildered, up the stairs to the station's first floor. It looked like a normal office, with desks and papers and a few quietly humming computers, but it was empty of people. Her fellow intern ignored her questioning look, indicating another staircase to their right.

"Go up there. You'll find another couple of our fellow interns." Evans jerked his head toward a nearby computer. "I need to update the security system and get you registered. Won't take long."

Maka did as he told her, despite her growing irritation with the (was he even albino? his skin was really tan) intern. He gave her another toothy grin and started tapping at the computer, not bothering to make sure that she took the staircase.

From the floor above came the sound of voices. The one that spoke most frequently was soft, almost lilting, and was occasionally interrupted by a much more nasal tone. Maka took the stairs slowly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, trying to make sense of the jumbled words.

"—I don't think he's dangerous. There's something special about him, but he's not like the other things around here." The lilting voice—definitely female—sounded insistent, almost desperate. The more nasal voice, which seemed to be male, seemed unconvinced of whatever she was trying to tell him.

"What did he tell you he was, again?"

"Well, he talks a lot…but he told me that he was an angel. 'Holy am I alone between Heaven and Earth,' he says." The woman seemed somewhat embarrassed. "He doesn't exactly look like what I imagined angels looking like, but there's a sort of glow that's enveloped my house."

"Glow?" There was alarm in the man's voice.

"Not like the Glow Cloud," the woman assured, "it's actually pretty angelic."

Maka reached the top of the staircase, peering into the room cautiously. There were only a few desks, crammed amidst row after row of shelves filled with objects that seemed rather random. One was piled with plain-looking rocks, but the one beside it had an old reel-to-reel and plastic buckets full of tapes. Beside these was one of the desks. A pink-haired girl was perched atop it, reading a magazine with a thoughtful look on her face, seemingly ignoring the conversation going on beside her.

"What did you say this 'angel' looked like?" the man asked. He was seated behind the desk, scribbling furiously at a leger whose binding matched those of the shelves stuffed with other ledgers.

"Uh, well, I didn't…" The woman was tall and strikingly beautiful, her inky black hair bound in a long ponytail. She scratched at her nose bashfully. "He's…short? He doesn't have wings or anything…just this spiky blue hair that never seems to lose its shape. And he's pretty muscular, but not abnormally so."

Pushing his glasses up, the writing man spared a glance at the pink-haired girl. She sighed greatly and let the magazine fall to her lap, speaking with the bored inflection of a memorized and frequently recited speech:

"Have you experienced the following phenomena: interference with household electronic devices, phone lines going dead, increased exhaustion, short-term memory loss," she took a deep breath, "periods of total memory blackout, blood oozing from the walls, dark portals—"

"No, none of those," the woman insisted, exasperation in her tone. "I don't think this is a threat. The only reason I came here is that the glow can be seen from outside the house and I didn't want you to send anyone to the house prematurely."

The pink-haired girl rolled her eyes, picking up her magazine again with a sigh. "I don't think this an issue, Ox. You can put the book away."

"Company policy is that all supernatural phenomena are supposed to be recorded for processing and archival posterity. This may not seem like a threat right now, but when this 'angel' starts growing tentacles and eating Miss Nakatsukasa's neighbors, we're going to want this information."

'Miss Nakatsukasa' made a sour face. "While my 'angel' seems content to eat me out of house and home, I don't believe that he will start eating our neighbors. But if he does, you'll be the first to know." She collected a small bag that had been sitting at her feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me…."

She turned stiffly, eyes fixed to the floor, and nearly ran into Maka on her way out. Muttering a quick apology, she rushed down the stairs. The pink-haired girl sighed and turned the page of her magazine with a bored expression. Beside her, the man called Ox continued to write in his leger.

There came a muffled greeting from the stairwell before Intern Evans came back up the stairs, giving Maka a skeptical look.

"Did you introduce yourself?"

Maka shook her head. "They were arguing with that woman that passed you on the stairs."

"Ah, Tsubaki," Evans nodded. "She lives out near the car lot. I already looked into her 'angel' situation. Whoever that joker is, I don't think he's dangerous."

"That's what I told him," the girl grumbled, turning another page. "But does he listen?"

"Ehh, you can't blame Ox, Kim, he's almost as high strung as the Kid."

Ox shot the white-haired intern a dirty look. "Don't you start. Not all of us can be complete wastes of space like you."

Evans grinned. "You say the sweetest things, darling."

Ox's lips thinned, but he didn't take the bait. Instead he jabbed his pen in Maka's direction. "Who's she? Please don't tell me you brought a girlfriend here."

Maka choked. "Girlfriend? I'd rather eat my own tongue." She shot an awkward glance to the man beside her. "Uh, no offense. I'm sure you're…uh…a great guy and all."

He shrugged. "Not many girls are into the red-eyed, sharp-toothed type. It's nothing I haven't heard a million times before."

Maka tried to pretend that she didn't feel slightly guilty, and looked instead at Kim, who had put the magazine down and was examining her curiously. The pink-haired intern broke into a crooked smile.

"You not into guys?"

Ox smacked at her with the leger; Kim gave him a nasty look, but didn't retaliate.

"Jesus, Kim, give the girl like ten minutes before you start in on her." The man's tone was edged with what might have been jealousy.

Kim shrugged. "She's been standing by that stairwell for a while and apparently she's not Eater's, so as far as I'm concerned, she's fair game." She swung her dangling feet like a child. "You got a name?"

"I'm Maka Albarn, your new intern from Death City University." She tugged on one of her pigtails in embarrassment. "And just so we're clear, no, I'm not into girls. Sorry."

Kim frowned as she returned to her magazine, uttering a dismissive, 'shame,' but Ox seemed rather excited.

"You're the Albarn girl? No shit!" He looked her up and down. "I have to say that I expected someone less…skinny…but hey, your mom's a legend around here. We're glad to have you."

Maka, brows furrowed, looked at the white-haired intern in confusion. "My mother?"

He frowned. "It's a long story and I'm supposed to get you to Kid. Promise to tell you later?"

She shot an irritated glance at Ox, who was looking at her as if she were an especially fascinating piece of artwork, and nodded. "Will you at least tell me who this 'Kid' is?"

Nodding curtly, Evans steered Maka through several shelves to another staircase. "Technically, he's our boss. All of our official assignments are given to us by him."

Maka didn't try to free herself from the light grasp that Evans had on her shoulder. "What about Management?"

He made a vague gesture. "Ehh, the Big Cheese doesn't really do official stuff often. You could say that he's more like the office mascot." He sniffed. "Well, unless you count the cat in the men's bathroom."

Maka was about to ask, but then thought better of it. She was starting to realize why her mother had never said anything about her time in Night Vale.

They ascended the staircase together, Evans putting a finger to his lips to urge her to be quiet as they ascended to the fourth floor. It seemed much larger than the previous two floors, which Maka found quite odd, considering that the building seemed to be of uniform shape from the outside. But regardless of the fact that it seemed too large for its building, the floor actually looked normal for a radio station. There were a few employees milling about from desk to desk, a couple of which nodded in silent greeting to Evans. On one side of the room, there was a large recording booth. Maka could see someone dressed in dark clothing hunched over. The red ON AIR sign above the booth's door was lit. The other side was dominated by a door that seemed unnecessarily large. In fact, Maka might not have thought it was a door at all, given that it had no doorknob and was only vaguely door-shaped. But it had a large frosted glass window with the words STATION MANAGEMENT painted in gold lettering at the top. Behind it, Maka could make out the forms of large shadows moving about.

Evans quietly pulled her through the office, nodding occasional hellos to his passing coworkers. One guy, a dark-skinned man with glasses and cornrolls, clapped the intern on the back as he passed. The ON AIR sign dimmed as they approached the booth.

"You can talk now!" a woman called crisply. Almost instantly the room was filled with chatter; Maka could make out snippets of the different conversations and she was dimly aware that a large portion of them were about her. Evans squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and then seemed to suddenly realize that he still has his hand on her. He dropped it like it was plagued.

Regret for saying that earlier 'choking on her tongue' thing welled in her. But before she could apologize, she noted that the black-clothed figure was leaving the booth and smiling at her.

He was tall and rather thin, with skin that was too pale to seem normal amidst a desert climate and eyes that were a piercing yellow. Maka might have found his presence uncomfortable if not for his warm expression.

"Maka Albarn." His voice was deep and melodious; Maka knew that he was a good choice to be running the booth. "Good to have you on."

She gave the white-haired man a sidelong glance. "Is this the Kid guy you were talking about?" He nodded.

"Yep. The Kid himself: radio personality and the closest thing to a boss that you've got."

Kid seemed to be giving Maka intense scrutiny, his eyes narrowed and his long fingers reaching up to stroke his chin. Occasionally he would cock his head to the side, examining Maka from a different angle, and make a comical humming sound. She shrank back, her shoulders bumping into Evans' chest, but the intern patted her head reassuringly.

"He always does this, don't worry. It's almost done."

Kid nodded approvingly, stepping back with a pleased sigh. "Yes, you'll do nicely," he said pleasantly, "Your symmetry is superb."

"I'll tell you later," Evans hissed, "just don't ask, or we're all gonna regret it."

Maka shut her mouth, which had been hanging open. Kid didn't seem to notice the exchange. He made a grand gesture with a manicured hand towards the room around him.

"Welcome to Night Vale Community Radio!"

Several of the employees turned and waved halfheartedly. The man with the glasses and the cornrolls winked at Maka.

"People call us NVCR for short," Kid continued, gesturing for Maka to step closer. She did so reluctantly, letting Kid put a hand on her shoulder. (What was with the people in this station? They were so touchy.) It felt deathly cold on her skin. "We are the Night Vale community's primary news outlet and last line of protection."

"Protection?" Maka sounded uncertain as her new boss practically dragged her into the recording booth, nodding in a manner-of-fact way.

"Well, of course! How else would our little burg be able to fend off the forces of darkness?" He stopped briefly. "You do know the rules of being in the recording booth, I trust?"

Maka swallowed heavily but nodded, casting a pleading look towards Intern Evans for help. But he had already left, beelining for the dark-skinned man with glasses. When he got to the desk, the man said something that had both of them roaring with laughter.

Kid ushered her into the booth, shutting the door behind him with an eerie click. The booth seemed silent and surreal, as if it were a plane all to itself. There were files and some legers like the one that Ox had been writing in stacked almost to the ceiling. Kid gestured for Maka to sit in an overstuffed chair between two such towers. He sat at the recording desk, pulling on his headphones and flicking the microphone on. The ON AIR light blinked to life.

"Welcome back, listeners!" Kid's on-air voice wasn't much different from his regular voice, just a slight bit happier and slower for emphasis. "Now back to our previous story: Tsubaki Nakatsukasa dropped by our office today to talk about the strange glow that's emanating from her house. She claims that the light is caused by a self-proclaimed angel, though she says that he doesn't really look like what she pictured. Thus far, nothing life-threatening has happened, but keep an eye out, just in case. Remember: Calling the Sheriff's Secret Police could save your lives." He paused and gave Maka a conspiratorial wink. "And now for some good news: Night Vale Community Radio has just received a new intern." He gestured hurriedly for Maka to come closer to the microphone. "Miss Albarn is green-eyed with ashy blonde hair, and has _beautiful_ symmetry. She's also the daughter of one of NVCR's most beloved security officers. Say hello, Maka!"

She managed a weak 'hello' at the microphone, which seemed to satisfy Kid. He waved at Maka dismissively as he continued his broadcast. And though she tried to tune him out so that she could better understand her own thoughts, Maka found her attention drifting back to Kid's bizarre news report.

"—ate on the latest attacks of the giant scarabs…Security Officer Mjolnir has successfully driven killed the latest wave without any property damage. Stein…wonderfully symmetrical Stein…was on the scene at the time and he told me that he was going to dissect one of the scarab bodies before it turned into sand like the rest. But he assured me that after the dissection, he'd get right to work trying to get to the bottom of this latest mystery." Flipping a switch, he leaned in closer to the microphone. "And now, dear listeners, _the weather._"

All was silent for a moment, but the playback in the booth kicked in and Maka heard a voice. But instead of hearing a meteorological forecast, Maka discovered that she was listening to a very loud man singing terribly off-key.

_Excalibuuuuur, Excalibuuuur  
From the United Kingdom  
I'm looking for him  
I'm going to California~_

Rage twisted Kid's impassive features. Not giving Maka a second glance, he stormed out of the booth. She followed uncertainly, not wanting to have to listen to the song much longer than necessary. Outside the booth, Kid was glaring angrily at the employees still milling about.

"Which one of you morons let that asshole in the booth?"

There was a uniform expression of disgust on everyone's face. A few people pointed to a blonde guy with a ton of piercings, who blanched.

"He said that he had information on that post office case, so I just ran into the booth to grab a tape and he followed me. The whole time, he was gabbing about how his legend began in the 12th century and swinging that cane of his around…I didn't think that he'd have the time to do anything. I watched him the whole time!"

Now seated atop one of the desks, feet propped up on a chair, Evans laughed. "Nice try, Hiro."

The blonde intern shot him a nasty look, but said nothing. He fiddled nervously with the papers in his hands. "Am I in trouble, sir?"

Kid sighed. "No, Hiro, but next time you see the 'Apache Tracker,' tell him to get out. And tell him to take off that horribly racist headdress of his, okay? He's embarrassing all of us."

The pierced intern nodded, still shuffling his papers nervously, but Kid had already turned his attention back to Maka.

"So have you gone to your apartment yet?" Maka shook her head.

"No, I came to the station first, just like you asked." Kid made an approving noise and motioned towards Intern Evans. He clambered off the desk with a look of irritation, but said nothing as he approached the booth.

"Yeah, Kid? Whatcha want?"

Kid's eyes narrowed slightly, but he seemed mostly accustomed to the intern's informality. He patted Maka again with his death-cold hands. "Can you escort Intern Albarn to her apartment and show her where she can get some dinner for the night? I'm sure that she's had a rough journey, driving here all the way from Death City."

Evans' lips thinned, but he nodded. "Yeah, 's cool. You want me to give her the tour?"

"Not this time, Soul Eater. I need you back in a couple hours. We've got something we want you to investigate."

"Cool." He jerked his chin at Maka. "C'mon, Albarn, let's get you fed."

Maka made a small noise, turning on her heel to face her new boss. He smiled at her as she extended a hand. "Uh…it's a pleasure to meet you, Mister…."

"You can just call me Kid," the man supplied, taking her hand and shaking it crisply. "It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Albarn. I look forward to working with you."

She blushed, but nodded and thanked the man again. When she turned, she found that Evans was already taking the stairs and she had to trot through desks to catch up with him. The glasses-wearing intern smiled and waved goodbye, which Maka returned hurriedly.

Kim and Ox on the second floor didn't spare the two of them an upward glance as they passed. Still reading her magazine, Kim obnoxiously popped gum that was the same color as her hair. Ox kept scribbling at his leger.

Evans tapped at a computer as they passed through the first floor, telling Maka to stop for a moment. She watched as his long fingers flew over the keyboard, writing out what seemed like an incomprehensible string of code. A low tone hung in the air for a moment and Maka was unsure if it came from the computer or from something else in the building. But Evans straightened and pointed to the staircase.

"You're good. We've got you fully registered in the security system now."

They descended to the garden level. Evans collected his coat—the black leather one—and held Maka's out to her. The toothy grin was back.

"You ride?"


End file.
